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DADDY'S LOVE 

===== AND = 

OTHER POEMS 






BY IRVIN W. UNDERHILL 

BLIND VERSE WRITER 



PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA. 






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A. M. E. Sunk ffiniitrrM 

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 



DEC -7 1916 



'C!.A4 534 68 



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AIY PURPOSE 7 

DEDICATION 8 

TO EVA 9 

DADDY'S LOVE 11 

TO OUR BOYS 13 

BACK HOME 15 

WHAT MOTHER MEANS TO ME 17 

THE PESSIMIST AND THE OPTIMIST 18 

THE ONE IN SABLE CLAD 19 

ELEGY TO DR. BOOKER T. WASHINGTON .... 21 

A FALLEN PRINCE 22 

AN APPRECIATION 24 

SHAKE DAT 'SIMMON TREE 25 

THE LAKE'S TALE 27 

EPHRAIM'S PHILOSOPHY 30 

EPHRAIAI'S KISS 31 

CONSOLATION 32 

OUR ROSE 33 



INDEX-Continued 



SONG OF THE TOILERS 34 

MAH CHOCLAT DROP 35 

A DREAM OF PEACE 36 

LIFE'S LOVES 38 

SPIRIT GUIDES 39 

THE COLONEL'S SOLILOQUY 40 

THE RED ASTER 41 

TEACH BY EXAMPLE 43 

LETTER TO HELEN 44 

HELEN 45 

HOME 45 

THE TRAMP OR THE PRIEST 46 

SAM AND THE PEACH 47 

DE SWEET GURL GRADUATE 49 

SOLITUDE 51 

SEEKING JOY 52 

THE DEBUTANTE 53 

TO YOUNG GIRLS 54 



INDEX-Continued 



AUNT SALLY 54 

WINTER TO SPRING 60 

TO THE COLORED SOLDIERS 61 

THE VOICE OF THE Y. M. C. A 62 

THE MIND 64 

TO A FRIEND'S CANARY 65 

CONSTANT COURAGE CONQUERS 66 

GIVE US MEN 67 

LAMENTATIONS OF A HEN 69 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY 11 

PLAY IT SOF' AN' GENTLE-LAK'! 81 

TO MR. JAMES W. MOORE 85 

A DREAM OF DUNBAR 87 



When 3'ou treat your life as you do the rose, 

Failing the thorns to see, 
You'll find it full of love and joy, 

And grief and care will flee. 



MY PURPOSE. 



I do not aim to sing these songs, 

To bards and scribes and men, 
Who tread the easy golden path ; 

I simply wield my pen, 
To smooth the way for down-cast souls, 

To set their feet aright. 
To teach them that true faith in God 

Is bread, and meat, and might. 

And I have right to sing these songs ; 

I dwell in sombre mist ; 
My skin is dark ; my hair is curled ; 

Poverty's on my list. 
But oh, the love, the joy, the light, 

I glean from day to day 
Through faith in God and His own Son ; 

They smooth my rugged way. 



DEDICATION. 



(To Mrs. Lela Walker-Bryan.) 



Teacher, friend and guide, oh what pride 
To me, to dedicate to thee, 
This book, which thou hast helped prepare. 
To scatter broadcast everywhere. 

Oh, the patient, platonic love 
Heaven entrusted to thy care, 
To spread about thee here and there, 
Where e'er it best might help the rest. 

Oh, faithful teacher, friend and guide. 
That thou hast loved me is my pride, 
That thou hast taught me is my joy ; 
It made me once again a boy. 

Most Gracious God, my thanks to Thee, 
That I was led to this fair spring 
Which seems to know most everything 
That I do need to plant my seed. 



TO EVA. 



Sometimes reposing by my window-sill, 
Regarding not the morphic call to me, 
I think and think, my Eva dear, of thee ; 
And when, at last, submissive to His will. 
Sweet slumber overcomes me soft and still, 
I dream and dream, my darling wife, of thee, 
And while once more, thy lovely face, I see. 
My soul doth glory thus, to have its will. 
Then as through mating days and honeymoon, 
I stroll and stroll beside my darling bride ; 
Life seems to me one grand celestial tune 
Which shall not end until its eventide ; 
But, oh, alas, that dreams must end so sooi^ 
For I awake, and thou not by my side. 



If ye would to thee heights attain 
Keep plodding when it seems in vain, 
Smiling when there's cause for tears, 
Make faith, the master of your fears. 



DADDY'S LOVE. 



Mos' fokes is alius talkin 'bout 
Dar deah ole muddah's lub; 

Dey 'lows dat its a blessin' 
Dat cums from Heb'n above. 

Dey says dat yo' kaint kill it 
So long as mammy breathes, 

An' eben when she's gon' t' heb'n 
Dey 'clare dat mammy sees. 

Ah don' dispute dat augument, 
Ah suttinly knows it's true, 

But what ah wants t' tell yo' is 
Dat daddy lubs some too. 

11 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



But som' how, daddy seems t' think 
His lub mus' not be shown 

To Httle boys an' little gurls 
Dat lib in his own home. 



De uddah nite m' daddy tuk 

Me wid him t' de stoah; 
He talked an' talked wid all dem men 

'Til ah began t' snoah. 

An den he tuk his big ha'd han' 

An' rub' it on m' face, 
It scratch' m' awful, deed it did, 

But in it da' was grace, 

Dat minded me ob all de joy, 
Ah gits from mammy's kiss ; 

It fotch'd a feelin' ovah me 
Ah' specs dat it was bliss. 

An' den he says t' all dem men : 

"De finest chile in town, 
De idol of his daddy's heart, 

He fills m' wid renown !" 

An' den ah murmahed in m' dream 
"Yeh, mammy's lub am true. 

But I'se a gwine t' tell de wurld 
Dat daddy lubs some too!" 

12 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 
TO OUR BOYS. 



I speak to you, my Colored boys, 

I bid you to be men, 
Don't put yourselves upon the rack 

Like pigeons in a pen. 
Come out and face life's problem, boys, 

With faith and courage too, 
And justify that wondrous faith, 

Abe Lincoln had in you. 

Don't treat life as a little toy, 

A dance or a game of ball ; 
Those things are all right in their place, 

But they are not life's all. 
Life is a problem serious, 

Give it the best you have. 
Succeed in all you undertake 

And help your brother live. 

If farming seems to be your call. 

Then take hold of the plough, 
And stick it down into the soil 

Till sweat runs down your brow. 
Then make this resolution firm : 

"I'm going to do my best. 
And stick this good old plough of mine 

Down deeper than the rest." 

13 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

If it's potatoes you would grow, 

Then buy the best for seed 
And read what Luther Burbank says 

To find what taters need. 
If you will hoe them well, my boys. 

With care and rich manure 
You'll find when winter comes around 

Your money will be sure. 

If you're to be a carpenter, 

Then train your hand and eye 
To work out angles, clean and clear 

As any metal dye. 
Then read up on materials. 

On beauty and on style, 
And prove to all, the house you build 

Is sure to be worth while. 

Why sure, a banker, you can be, 

A lawyer or a priest ; 
Or you can be a merchant prince, 

Their work is not the least. 
It makes no difference what you try 

If you would get the best. 
You'll have to stick that plough of yours 

Down deeper than the rest. 

Don't fawn up to another man 

And beg him for a job ; 
Remember that your brain and his 

Were made by the same God. 

14 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



So use it boys, with all your might, 
With faith and courage too, 

And justify that wondrous faith 
Abe Lincoln had in you. 



BACK HOME. 



I'se gwine back home t' ole Virginny, 
Among dem fields ob yellow corn, 

Back to stay with my Lucindy, 

De sweetest gal dat e'er was born. 

I'se conie up yeah t' Philadclphy, 
Dey told me 'twas so big an' gran' 

Dat money was most free as water ; 
Dat it was kin' to fahry Ian' ! 

Ah cum, but laws a me, a mighty, 
Dese wite fokes wuk me neah t' deaf, 

Dey wuk me, wuk me. Lord b'lieve me, 
'Til Ah scarcely knows mahsef. 

Of course. Ah makes a little money. 
But den it aint no kine ob pay. 

When you reckon dat I'm wukin' 
Haf de nite an' all de day. 

15 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

I'se gwine back home t' ole Virginny 
Down whar we wnks from sun t' sun; 

Hyeah yo' got dis 'lectric lightin' 
So's yo' can't tell when yo's done. 

I'se gwine straight back t' my Lucindy, 
Dese up noth gals dey shur am queer, 

Seems lak t' me dat all dey tinks 'bout 
Is pretty clothes and straightened hair. 



Get dressed all up in skeeter nettin, 

Could put dere whole dress in mah mouth; 

Wid red silk stockin's, high heel slippahs 
I'se neber seen sich in de Souf. 



I 'clare dey looks good in de parlor 
All dancing, prancing nigh t' def; 

But laws just put dem in de kitchen ! 
I specs dat I would starve mahsef. 

Dat aint de way wid mah Lucindy 
She shuh aint much wid Yankee style. 

But when it cums t' cookin' chicken 
Cindy suttinly am wuth wile. 

When mah gal Cindy bak's a 'possum 
Wid sweeta taters roun his toes, 

Wid turnip greens, boil'd rice and simons 
Ah'll shuh forgit mah up nof woes. 

16 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



Wid some of her hot beaten biscuit 
Or corn bread meltin' in mah mouf ; 

Fokes, taint no use t' talk about it, 
For I'se a gwine straight back Souf. 



WHAT MOTHER MEANS TO ME. 



I know the rhythm and the rhyme 
I have the feeling all the time 
But in mere words I cannot tell 
The story that I know so well: 
What mother means to me. 



Perhaps, dear friend, if you will try 
To think with me we can descry. 
The simple words both plain and true 
To tell the story old, yet new. 
What mother means to me. 



~-^rj^m'^^ 



No, No, alas ! 'Tis all in vain ! 
For earthly words can not explain 
That tender feeling sweet, sublime, 
Which sometimes even seems divine, 
What mother means to me. 

17 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 
THE PESSIMIST AND THE OPTIMIST. 



Sam Johnson said the other day 

To his wife, Mary Ann : 
"Ah dun'no what we's gwine t' do, 

I'se dun'no how t' plan. 

"Dese times dey is so awful hard. 

Ah can't find wuk t' do, 
T' earn a bit ob money t' 

Buy bread fo' me an' yo' !" 

Now Sam's was just a simple case. 
Of pessimistic woe ; 
His eyes were full of burning tears, 
His heart was bleeding so. 

He dearly loved his Mary Ann ; 

But faith was not his creed ; 
And faith, that is the thing that counts 

When we are in real need. 

"Now, look ahyeah, Mistah Johnson," 

The optimist replied, 
Straightening up her large physique 

And stepping to his side, 

"Dah aint no use t' moan an' groan, 
Jes cans' youh luck is down ; 

Good fo'tun' nel)er will cum roun' 
T' mix up wid dat frown ! 

18 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



"Cum, brighten up dat count'nance, 

Put on a winnin' smile, 
Den stick youh head up in de aih, 

An' walk lak youh wuth while. 

"Go press up dem ole pantaloons, 

De wrinkles out dat coat ; 
Put on a collali an' a tie, 

An look lak 3^ouh ob note. 

"An' den go out an' git youh job, 

You'll git it, yes yo' can, 
Daih's somp'n in yeah tells me so. 

Now go an' be a man." 

Sam went up to his little room 

And prayed and pressed his clothes ; 

And then went out and got his job 
Which ended all his woes. 



THE ONE IN SABLE CLAD. 



America, my country, wondrous grand, 

Of freedom on this earth, the 'cynosure. 

Where down-trod peasants from the foreign plains 

And mountains, find their happiness and wealth. 

19 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



Your wine-press over-flows with nectar, fit 
To soothe the palate of the ancient gods ; 
Great plains and fertile valleys bring you grain 
To feed one-half earth's varied tribes of men. 

Majestic rivers, lakes and sylvan streams. 

And mountain-torrents teem with finny tribes 

To satisfy your sons on fasting days 

The while their thoughts ascend beyond the skies. 

Your virgin forests are a paradise — 
Too grand for e'en the concept of a man ; 
To know their glories he would have to stand 
Above, below, beside, at once, each tree, 

Each rock, each glen, each mossy-covered couch, 
The myriad birds between the earth and sky, 
The streams, the plants, the countless blades of 

grass; 
And still its mystic life's beyond his ken. 

The wide world marvels at your charity ; 
Where pestilence or famine strive for sway 
Your ships go laden with their precious store. 
Free as the air, to banish misery. 

If all your regal splendor should I laud, 
My simple lay into a tome would grow; 
And yet I dread, I dread, America, 
Lest all thy glories fade to misery! 

20 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



For to mine ear there comes a doleful cry, 
Not of a coward, cringing in his fear, 
Not of a man depraved for charity, 
Nor seeking thy fond love or sympathy ; 

But of thy son — the one in sable clad — 
Whose fathers died in all thy far-famed wars. 
Whose mothers wet your sacred soil with tears. 
Who in your God reposed his faithful love. 

Oh, hear his cry, " 'Tis justice that I ask 
Of thee, my country, give me that I give. 
And justice is an attribute of God 
Withhold it not for I would see thee live !" 



ELEGY TO DR. BOOKER T. WASHINGTON. 



Come forth, ye faithful, old and young. 
Who from old Afric's blood have sprung, 
And bend your knee. 

And place the mountain laurel wreath 
Upon his brow, now cold in death ; 
And drop a tear. 

Upon the bier of this great guide 
Who in our service lived and died. 
And let us mourn. 

21 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



For rare it is in this late day 
When Mammon's gilded hand holds sway 
To find a man, 

Who labors in the night and day 
To carve and show to us the way 
To higher things. 

Oh, Washington, our friend and guide, 
We pray that thou com'st to the side, 
Each night and morn. 

Of him who puts thy mantle on 
That he may wear it as his own 
For Afric's good. 

Come hither, maids and sons of Ham, 
Lay on his bier victorious palm ; 
Proclaim, "well done." 

And sing, "Swing low, sweet chariot" ; 
Thy service we shall ne'er forget ; 
Go rest in peace. 



A FALLEN PRINCE. 



This ode is to a prince of men. 
The grandest of the grand ; 

The leader of the dark-skinned race. 
So down trod in this land. 

22 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Born in the depths of slavery, 

With no paternal hand 
To guide the footsteps of his youth 

Across a frowning land. 

He formed in boyhood in his mind, 

The vision of his life ; 
He vowed to lead his brethren on 

And fit them for their strife. 



Not on the field of battle with 
The cannon and the spear, 

But with the pruning hook and plough, 
And faith to conquer fear. 



Down in the bowels of the earth, 

Laboring in the coal. 
He earned the tiny grains of gold 

That took him to his goal. 

Old Hampton, monument to fame 

Of General Armstrong ; 
The Alma Mater of our king ; 

Thy glory must live long. 

He did not sing the classic songs 
Of Homer, bard of Greece ; 

Nor hum the tunes of Virgil's lyre ; 
He had not Euclid's grace. 

23 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

But, yet, without this classic lore. 

He won a doctor's gown 
From Harvard with the nation's chief, 

In dear old Cambridge town. 

So lowly was our hero's birth 

He did not have a name ; 
He chose his own, and by his grit 

He covered it with fame. 

So that the men who love the great 

Can't help but feel forlorn, 
That Booker T., plus Washington, 

A prince of men, is gone. 



AN APPRECIATION. 



(To the Pennsylvania Home Teaching Society and 
Free Circulating Library for the Blind.) 



Were it not for the light that you turned on my 
path, 

When the clouds strove to hide my way, 
My life must have ended in darkness and night, 

Without hope of a bright sunny day. 

24 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Were it not for the wisdom you brought to my 
soul, 

Embossed on your pages so white, 
] must have relapsed into mental decay 

And despair, on the loss of my sight. 

It rivals creation, this work which you do, 
For the blind you are both sun and moon. 

And you teach them to play on the aeolian harp 
Their part of the great cosmic tune. 



SHAKE DAT 'SIMMON TREE. 



Daihs frost out daih dis moanin' an 

De leaves am crisp an' brovv-n ; 
De wile geese cryin', "Honk, honk, honk !" 

An' movin' further down. 
Mah heart am all a'flutter fo' 

Daihs joy in stoah fo' me, 
I'se gwine straight down daih to de branch 

An' shake dat 'simmon tree ! 

Ah went up t' de No'thland, dat 

Was long, long yeahs gone by ; 
Fo ah was jest a youngster den 

Wid feelin's runnin' high. 
Ah lak dar freedom, an' dar ways 

Jest suit me t' a "T," 
But wid de frost. Ah come back home 

T' shake dat 'simmon tree ! 

25 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Ah asked mah sweet heart, Liza Jane, 

"Mah honey, marry me?" 
She said, "If you will move to town 

Whar we can happy be." 
Ah seys, "Ah lubs yo' 'deed I do. 

But if my wife yo'd be, 
Yo' got t' stay hyeah, whar yo' Tom 

Can shake dat 'simmon tree. 



Dat's all rite 'bout youh watah milon. 

Chicken or youh ham. 
Or turkey lak de w'ite fokes ete 

Or little baby lam'; 
But, honey, if its puah delite, 

Dat youh would feed to me. 
Jest let me, when de 'possum's ripe. 

Go shake dat 'simmon tree. 



I suttinly wants t' go t' hebin 

An' lay mah troubles down, 
T' sit up on dat pearly throne 

An' weah a starry crown. 
But if its milk an' honey dat 

Dey's gwine t' feed t' me, 
Ah prays dat Ah might stay right hyeah 

An' shake dat 'simmon tree. 

26 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 
THE LAKE'S TALE. 



I sat and pondered one fair day, 

Beside a mossy dell, 
On Nature and her mystic plan 

Of doing all things well. 

The scene beheld I some times call 

The fairest spot on earth — 
Just such as nature might have thought 

Quite ht for Adam's birth. 

For Eden scarcely could have been 
More grand than that old vale 

Where I, communing with the lake, 
Imbibed this fairy tale. 

'Twas where a mountain and a stream 
Had crossed each other's way. 

And in their strife had built a lake 
More grand than placid bay. 

Its mirrored face was seldom marred. 

Save by the speckled trout. 
Which in their sportive moods would from 

The crystal depths bound out. 

Or when some fleet aquatic bird, 
Bound northward in the spring. 

Could not resist this tempting chance 
To rest its weary wing. 

27 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

The heavens even grander seemed, 

Reflected in its sheen, 
The trees to send aloft and down 

Their crowns of verdure green. 

But I did not propose to tell 

Its beauty in detail. 
So now I'll let the lake reveal 

Its legendary tale. 

'Twas countless centuries ago, 

I was a tiny stream, 
Winding my way through meadow-land 

To keep it fresh and green. 

And headed always toward the sea. 

The goal of all my tribe, 
Tho not in haste for I much loved 

The verdure by my side. 

Until I found across my way. 

And towering to the sky 
A mountain tall and wondrous grand, — 

Which in stern voice did cry : — 

"Ahoy, ahoy, you tiny rill, 

Stop there, I say, and die, 
For I'm the monarch of this land. 

And none dare me defy." 

28 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

I simply rested where I was, 

Kept on my face a smile, 
Made love to every speck of dew, 

And raindrops did beguile. 

Until they formed themselves in clans 

And rushed to me in glee, 
And took my vow that we would find 

A way to reach the sea. 

'Twas thus I grew from day to day, 
And climbed that mountain side. 

While holding faith that I would reach 
The ocean's mighty tide. 

I did not reach it in a year, 

In twain, nor a decade ; 
It took me centuries or more 

To keep the vow I made. 

At last one bright and sunny day. 

That followed on the rain 
Which melted snow on mountain side, 

In valley and on plain, 

I found myself so swollen 

As to reach the mountain's brink. 

And send a tiny little stream 
A'scouting through a chink. 

29 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

But as it reached the further side 

And fell off into space, 
Alas, it formed but mist in air, 

Which seemed to me disgrace ! 

Oh, how I labored night and day 

To make that crevice grow 
Until the gray rock fell away 

Like sand or shifting snow. 

With power ever growing 

By the waters in my wake, 
I tumbled o'er that mountain side 

And made it roar and quake. 

I wore and carved away its stone. 

And made it part of me 
To form these falls which people come 

A thousand miles to see. 



EPHRAIM'S PHILOSOPHY. 



When eber trouble comes your way. 
An' clouds am hangin' low. 

Dare ain't no use to double it 
By cryin' bout yo woe, 

30 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Walk squah up to de gennainun 

An' look 'iin in de eye, ■* 

Den say, "Yo nasty, dirty tramp, 
Yo' got to git or die." 



Don't 'low dat youh can fool wid him, 
You'se got to have de san' 

Fo' if he finds you're short on trumps 
He'll suttinly call youh han'. 

An ef yo' fin' dat he's too big 
To chuck out troo de do', 

Yo bet tall hab some philosophy 
Stuck somewhar in yo' sto'. 

Mahsef, I'se tried a dozen kines 
An' what ah finds de bes, 

Is jus' t' keep a sunny smile 
An trus God fo' de res'. 



EPHRAIM'S KISS. 



De doctah says, "Avoid de kiss," 

Dat it am ful' ob bugs, 
An' dat yuh coutin' days must be 

Jes' honey talk an' hugs. 

31 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Dat doctah man must be a fool — 

De wust I'se eber seen ; 
A fellah's nothin' but a mule 
Dat wouldn't kiss his queen. 

An' if a kiss am full ob bugs, 
De kine dat youh can't see, 
Jes cum right 'long, mah honey bunch, 
An' feed youh bugs to me. 



CONSOLATION. 



(As expounded by Ephraim at the funeral cere- 
mony of his beloved friend Deacon Jones.) 



Whil'st we'ah cryin' an' amoanin'. 
An' de bells am tollin' lo'. 

Singing' songs so sad an' moanfuh, 
Makin' footsteps kin' a slow, 

Christenin' bells am loudly tunin' 
In de Ian' beyon' de sky. 

An' de angels sweetly singing,' 
Hallelujah ! up on high. 

Dat's de law of dis creation, 

When yo's don' gon' lef dis earth 

If yo's done some righteous libin' 
Up in heben dar's a berth. 

32 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

If yo's been a wicked sinner, 
Laud, have mercy on youh soul, 

Debil, he's don' gone and got youh 
Burnin up de same as coal. 



OUR ROSE. 



She was sweet and pure as a lily. 
With a voice like the cooing dove. 

Bestowed by the great God of Nature 
To whisper the theme of love. 

She was like a rose that was blooming, 

In the bleak crevice of a rock. 
In the shade of trees of the forest. 

Not far from a babbling brook. 

It died from the cold and the shadows 
Of near ones who thought themselves dear ; 

But a rose needs the warmth of sunshine 
Its tender nature to cheer. 

Her leige lord was cold and as callous 
As the rock that sheltered the rose ; 

And his love was naught else but passion, 
That caused the death of our rose. 

33 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 
SONG OF THE TOILERS. 



Here's to the man behind the plough, 

Who plants the seed and well knows how 

To make it sprout and bloom and grow 
xA.nd turn to bread in time of snow. 

Here's to the man who plays a tune 
Upon the anvil, morn and noon, 

And makes the iron, rough and cold, 
More useful far than shining gold. 

Here's to the man with sight so keen, 
Who views the log out in the stream, 

And sees in it a cottage grand. 

Then fashions it with his trained hand. 

Here's to the man who hews the stone. 
Who prides himself on work well done. 

Who cuts his bread from out the rock 
That blocks the way of common stock. 

Here's to the dame who sits and sews 
And rocks the cradle with her toes, 

Sings to her babe a lullaby, 

Alert for husband's evening cry. 

'Tis joy to eat the crust of bread 
Won by the toil of hand or head, 

x\nd drink with it the cup of mead 
In which there is no graft nor greed. 

34 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 
MAH CHOCLAT DROP. 



Fse in lub wid a sweet little choc'lat drop 

She's brown as she can be ; 
Her lobly spa'klin' features 

'Twould do yo' good t' see. 

Hur haih : 

It's black as de raben's wing, 

Wid, oh sich a lobly curl, 
Dat seems t' twis' rite 'roun ma heart 

An' mak' it a part ob dat gurl. 

Hur eyes : 

Daih brown as de hazel nut, 

Dey spa'kle so bright an' fine, 
Dat eberey time ah luks int' dem 

Ah says yo' mus' be mine. 

Hur lips : 

Daih shaped lak de cupid's bo', 

Daih red as de bloomin' rose ; 
To press em wid a fond, fond kiss 

Am de greates' joy I knows. 

Hur teeth : 

Daih jist as pun an' w'ite 

As de fiow'rs dat she lobs best ; 
Dere de lily ob de valley. 

An' she wears dem on hur breast. 

35 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Hur smile : 

It's bri't as de sun shine 

Dat cums rite aftah de rain, 
An' fills mall heart wid gladness 

An' taks 'way all de pain. 

Hur voice : 

It's sweet as de nightingale's, 

Singin' way up in de tree, 
Callin' his mate in de springtime, 

Sayin', "Darlin' cum lub me." 

Hur form : 

It's tall, an' plump, an' roun'. 

Ah don' know how t' tell it. 
But it seems t' call mah arms rite round', 

An' it's heben when ah feels it. 

You know dat some fokes laks mint candy 

Jist 'cause it am so w'ite ; 
But mah choclate drop am de only kin' 

Dat gibs mah pur delite. 



A DREAM OF PEACE. 



How long, how long, O Gracious God, 
Wilt Thou permit these nations vile 
To drag the name of Thine own Son 
Down in the ditch where gore doth run? 

36 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



The countries fanned by Alpine breeze, 
Pretend they follow in the wake 
Of Him who gave His life for peace 
And that our sins Thou shouldst release. 

And yet they spare no earthly power 
In carnage even worse than hell, 
To slay and drag each other down 
And vow Christ Jesus leads them on. 

The Teuton, with his wondrous skill 
And mamon's knowledge, cries aloud, 
"Die Welt gehort zu mir und Gott" ; 
And thus the doors on peace hath shut. 

The Island Empress of the deep, 
On whose fair brow sun never sets, 
Proclaims "the right to Neptune's throne, 
Belongs to me and God alone." 

The Southern Galic beauty sings, 
"Revenge, revenge, 'tis sweet to me. 
For that, and to reclaim my own 
I fight and Mon Dieu leads me on." 

The Eastern bear of mongrel breed. 
Whose will is slavery for the crowd, 
Proclaims, "My will is that of Heaven 
And mine the power which God hath given. 

37 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



And yet thy Son in Gethsemane, 
Betrayed into the hands of foes, 
Said unto Peter, "Sheathe thy sword, 
And trust alone the gfrace of God." 



LIFE'S LOVES. 



At birth there's the love of mother, 
Like incense sweet and pure — 

A love like which there's none other ; 
Through life it will endure. 

In childhood the love of play-mates 
Is fleeting and not very strong; 

For it's called upon by so many. 
That it seldom lasts very long. 

The love of brothers and sisters, 

Sometimes is very true ; 
But don't be surprised if its broken, 

By either them or you. 

Now comes the love of sweethearts. 
It burns with a ruddy glow, 

Be sure that it isn't passion; 
If it is 'twill turn to woe. 

The love of wife and husband, 
When true, is a thing divine ; 

38 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

I pray that it may enter 

And make your life sublime. 

Then there's a love called friendship 
To which there are many claims, 

But when sifted to the bottom, 

There remain few precious grains. 

When the loves of youth have vanished, 
And your friends lie 'neath the sod, 

There is still one love remaining — 
The wonderful love of God. 



SPIRIT GUIDES. 



Spirits twain they light my way 
Through the night and in the day. 
Watching o'er me all the time ; 
I was their darling, they were mine: 
I speak of wife and mother. 

Father, too, has gone before, 
Waiting inside Heaven's door ; 
Waiting for his first-born son 
To take me when life's work is done ; 
To see my wife and mother. 

39 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 
THE COLONEL'S SOLILOQUY. 



Who took me when a tiny babe, 
Just from my mother's v/omb, 

And held me to her loving breast, 
And whispered sweet a tune? 
'Twas my black mammy. 

Who wrapped me up in swaddling clothes, 

With tender, native skill, 
As though I was her very life. 

To keep me from a chill ? 

Twas my black mammy. 

Who nursed me at her well-filled paps. 

As black as ebony, 
While her own child drank milk from cows, 

In lonely reverie? 

'Twas my black mammy. 

Who bathed me with such tender care, 
All through my childhood days, 

And loved to comb my golden hair 
In all the pretty ways? 

'Twas my black mammy. 

Who shed the largest bitter tears 

And felt the keenest pain. 
When I left home for battlefields. 

To keep her in my name? 

My old black mammy. 

40 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Who spread and eased my troubled couch 

And cooled my fevered brow, 
When I was racked with every pain 

Lost warfare could bestow? 
My old black mammy. 

Who fed me from her scanty store 

Of bacon and of meal, 
When I was floundering in the depths 

In need of faith and zeal? 

My old black mammy. 

Who told me of my father's pride, 

Said, "Massa, Massa, dear, 
Yo' got t' bu'ld dis fo'tun up, 

T' sho' dat pride's still hyeah"? 
My old black mammy. 

I'll plant this rose upon her grave, 
God bless her big, pure heart ! 

When e'er I've dealings with her race, 
I'll think before I start, 

Of my old black mammy. 



THE RED ASTER. 



A beautiful aster was sent to me 

By a musical friend of high degree ; 

And with it this message, "Tell me in measure, 

The story, I'm sure, this flower doth treasure.' 

41 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

I scanned well its color, beautiful red, 
Which told of the blood our Saviour hath shed. 
I noticed its petals, placed in curved line, 
Which told of the order of all thinofs divine. 



That though they were dainty and frail as the air, 
They lived by their faitli, knew nothing of fear ; 
That each one was sweetest to its own mate, 
Ne'er dealing in jealousy, envy nor hate. 



The stem was c|uite plain in color and form, 
Yet it and the aster were bound into one. 
The reason its beauty seemed perfect to me, 
The aster, you know, is from vanity free. 



So this is the story I gleaned from that flower : 
Stand forth in your glory, this minute, this hour. 
Have faith in the law and the order divine. 
Get rid of all fear and never repine. 



Be sweetest to those who dwell by your side, 
Then for this world you will be a great guide ; 
Remember, the color of the red aster. 
Stands for the blood that was shed by the Master. 

42 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 
TEACH BY EXAMPLE. 



Remember your boy overflows with desire — 
A longing that some day he'll be like his pa, 

And you can't expect him to climb up much higher 
In morals or spirits than just where you are. 

Remember the child on your knee has decided 
That some day his breath will smell just like his 
dad's, 

And if it is flavored with gin or with coffee, 
You'll soon find the odor in that of the lad's. 

Remember the language which you have been using 
Is sweeter than music to juvenile ears, 

And soon you will hear in the voice of your scion, 
Your song or your curses, your oaths or your 
prayers. 

Remember, dear mother, when Bobbie informs you. 
The grocer has made a mistake in the count ; 

Unless you return it you'll find in the future 
He's back of a wall which he cannot surmount. 



Remember, good woman, if you sit and gossip 
Of scandal, and say it's so common to-day. 

Your daughter is likely to tread in the foot-prints 
Of that horrid creature, just over the way. 

43 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

The parents should lead and the children should 
follow. 
The pathway that's blazed by their ma or their 
pa; 
And you can't expect them to climb up much higher 
In morals or spirits than just where you are. 



LETTER TO HELEN. 



Your letter, I received, my dear, 
It tilled me full of sweetest cheer; 
I'm proud to learn of your success, 
I feel as though we both are blest. 
Keep at it darling, up and on, 
Master small things, get the brawn ; 
Then when the great ones you shall try, 
They'll bow to your trained hand and eye. 

Gladys and Irvin both are well ; 

I've many things I'd like to tell, 

But if I put them all in rhyme. 

It surely would take too much time ; 

So on another page you'll find 

Some news, I hope will please your mind. 

Love to Ida and Mrs. Cooke, 
I thank them for the pains they took 
To lead you in the proper way ; 
God will pay them some fine day. 

44 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Miss Harris must be quite a dear, 
I'm very glad you have her near. 
Good-night, my dear, a kiss or two ; 
A prayer that God take care of you ; 
Good-night again, m}^ love so true, 
From your father, I W. U. 



HELEN. 



Helen, the darling of my heart ; 
How sad I am since we're apart. 
I thought you but a dainty girl. 
Of simple grace, with chestnut curl, 
But oh, you are the world to me ; 
Naught shall exist till you I see. 
Be good, be true, be faithful too. 
Is father's daily prayer for you. 



HOME 

What is home ? 
It is not a palace of marble grand. 
Nor is it a cottage built by your hand ; 
It is neither a stately house of brick, 
Nor built of stone with walls quite thick. 

45 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



Home is a place where husband and wife 
Are Hving a happy peaceful life, 
Surrounded by children, boys and girls ; 
By boys full of mischief and girls with curls. 

With lots of pranks and plenty of fun. 
Where sometimes mother is quite outdone 
With the worry, the care and all the work, 
Yet not one part of it would she shirk. 

What is home? 
It is not a country mansion fine 
With gorgeous parks and fields sublime ; 
It is not the villa of the rich, 
Nor is it the hovel back on the ditch. 

Home is a place full of joy and care ; 
Of smiles and sorrows mingled with prayer ; 
Where father plays with his boys and girls ; 
Tickling their feet and pulling their curls. 

Where on occasion he's stern and cross; 
(Take away even that 'twould be a loss) 
Where all of its members are thankful to God, 
And try for the pathway Jesus trod. 



THE TRAMP OR THE PRIEST? 



While strolling one day on the boulevard, 
I saw an auto, 'twas racing hard; 
It struck a woman ; a shriek, a cry ; 
And lo! the poor soul was ready to die. 

46 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

A priest was standing nearby on the curb, 
His blood must have frozen, he never stirred. 
A tramp was seated upon a bench, 
He made an expression, perhaps 'twas French. 

He rushed to the woman and carried her off. 
To a house on the corner, his touch was soft. 
I wonder, if God shows His mercy to me. 
Which one of those men, in heaven, I'll see? 



SAM AND THE PEACH 



'Twas pay-day on the sugar pier 

For brawny sons of Ham ; 
"Cum' on" said Sam, "I'll buy a drink 

From landlord, Pat M'Cann." 

They filed in through the bar-room door. 

In shabby working garb, 
Each laden with his weekly pay 

For which they worked so hard. 

"Phwat will yez have?" inquired Pat; 

"Good straight ole gin," said they ; 
And each man poured his liquor out. 

Their spirits blythe and gay. 

Then quaffed it after jollv toast 
To landlord, Pat M'Cann, 

47 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



"T' him dat trusts us t' our drink, 
T' our bes' friend, a man !" 

It was the custom of that crowd 

To drop most of their pay 
Into the coffers of M'Cann ; 

They knew no better way. 

On that day, Biddy, wife of Pat 

Had set upon the bar 
A dish of peaches, large and fine, 

Just purchased at the door. 

Sam took a peach and bit it, too ; 

"Ye bla'gard" roared the dame, 
"The hkes o' ye to stale the p'ach 

I've jis' bought for me bairn." 

"If it be p'aches ye w'ud ate, 

Shure, ate thim in yer home ; 
Not stale thim from yer betters 

When ye aren't buyin' none." 

Her angry words pierced through Sam's heart 

Like fiery darts of steel ; 
They held a picture to his eyes 

Like movies from a reel. 

In one short moment, Sam had seen 

The sorrow of his wife. 
The nakedness and hunger in 

His little children's life. 

48 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



The barreness and misery 
Of what he called his home, 

How money spent across that bar 
Would all those things atone. 

"I'll take dat counsel," muttered Sam, 
"An' eat ma' peaches home ; 

An' aftah dis, I'll neber lebe 
Ma' wife an' chill'en 'lone." 

And straightway out the door he went 

Into a grocery store. 
He bought a chicken, great big ham, 

And peaches by the score, 

A bag of meal, and other things 

To cheer his family's heart. 
That little peach gave Samuel's life 

A new and upward start. 



DE SWEET GURL GRADUATE 



Hyeah's t' de sweet gurl graduate, 

All dressed up lak' a weddin' cake, 

In bran' new frock, chuck full o' lace, 

Wid ribbons on it ebery place ; 

It's tucked an' frilled an' plaited, too, 

Honey, yo' lookin' sweet fo' shuh ! 

49 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



Hyeah's t' de sweet gurl graduate ; 
Hur an' de house all decorate ; 
Mornin' glories ovah de doah, 
Daisies an' pinies on de floah ; 
Magnolia blossoms in her haih, 
Roses bloomin' every whaih. 



Hyeah's t' de sweet gurl graduate ; 
Feed her on chicken, ice cream, cake, 
Strawberries, fruit of ebery kind, 
Watah million, fresh from de vine ; 
Gin her what eber she lak de bes' 
Den shaih de lebens 'tween de res'. 



Hyeah's t' de sweet gurl graduate; 
Jes let dat music syncopate ; 
Put chaihs and tables out de ro'om, 
Keep them banjos ringin' in chune. 
Den watch her dance de turkey trot, 
De maxic an' de ole gavotte. 



Hyeah's t' de sweet gurl graduate ; 
Laws, how she dance and scintillate, 
Dis de happy day ob her life, 
Ah specs she'll soon be sum un's wife. 
Her dad an' mam dey dance and prate. 
Mite think dat dey jest graduate ; 
Hyeah's t' de sweet gurl graduate ; 

50 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 
SOLITUDE 



Oh, solitude, where is the sting. 

That men ascribe to thee? 
Where is the terror in thy mien ? 

I look, but cannot see. 

Where hidest thou, that loneliness 
The world pretends to fear? 

While lying on thy loving breast 
I find my sweetest cheer. 

They do not understand thee, no, 
They are but knaves or fools. 

Or else they must discern in thee 
Dame Nature's queen of schools. 

For in thy care, with naught but books, 

The bards and saints of old. 
Become my friends and to mine ear 

Their mystic truths unfold. 

When problems and perplexities 

Of life becloud my mind, 
I know in thee, oh, solitude, 

The answer I can find. 

When grief and sorrow crowd my heart 
To breaking, with their fears 

Within thy arms, oh, solitude, 
I find relief in tears. 

51 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

And when I weary of the world's 

Deceits and cares and strife, 
I find in thee sweet rest and peace 

And vigorous new life. 

My garden never is complete 

Without a blooming rose, 
Nor is my life, oh, solitude, 

Without thy sweet repose. 



SEEKING JOY 



Elusive Fame, I court thee not. 
For what thou hast to give ; 

But that my lady fair, may know 
Through thee, for her, I live. 

To show I'm worthy she should trust 
Her heart and hand to me, 

In love, I seek my highest joy. 
And not, Sir Fame, in thee. 



If ye would to thee heights attain 
Keep plodding when it seems in vain, 

Smiling when there's cause for tears, 
Make faith, the master of your fears. 

52 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 
THE DEBUTANTE 



Trembling she stands upon the brink, 

The precipice of life ; 
Behind her, books and toys and joy, 

Ahead, there's care and strife. 



Behind her, father, mother dear 
To guide her day by day ; 

Ahead, there's no seen hand to steer 
Her o'er life's storm-tossed bay. 



What if her dainty little feet 
Should make one erring step ! 

Ah ! every pathway to the rose 
is by the thorns beset. 



Be not dismayed, sweet debutante, 
With all life's trying cares. 

For there's an Unseen Hand to guide 
You through the coming years. 



If you will only trust to it, 
Your cares will turn to joy ; 

With faith, the strife of life will be 
Pure gold without alloy. 

53 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 
TO YOUNG GIRLS 



Have you ever tried to start a fire 

With charred or half-burned coal 
And found it dull and void of life 

Like man without a soul ? 
Or else perhaps to build a gown, 

From robes of days of yore, 
And found it would not stand the test 

Like new goods from the store? 

Just so is the man of riper years 

Who spent his youth in sin. 
Who now bedecked in raiment rare 

A youthful maid would win. 
His love is like the half-burned coal. 

The robe of days of old. 
The fire gone out, your gown in rags 

Has left vou bare and cold. 



AUNT SALLY 



>, PART L— SPRING 

The evening sun was sinking toward the West, 
Its gleaming rays shone bright on mountain crest, 
All nature seemed sublimely grand and still 
As I sat in the shadow of the mill, 

54 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



The red of rose and ivy's lustrous green 
I\Iade bleak grey walls to blend with nature's scene, 
The blue birds flitting here and there on wing 
Told in their song the joyousness of spring. 

The stream that turned the pondrous water-wheel, 
Though liquid seemed to have the strength of steel. 
Transmitted to the slow revolving stones 
It ground the corn to meal for village homes. 

The speckled trout imbued with joy of spring 
And emulating birds out on the wing. 
From crystal depths would bound to outer air 
And thus in springtime's beauty own a share. 

The lowing herd came winding up the dell 
With cloughing hoof and tinkling of their bell, 
To meet the milkmaid with her shining pail, 
Whose springtime song resounded through the vale. 

The lilacs spread their fragrant purple haze 
Across the fields now green with growing maize, 
The odor of the honeysuckle vine 
Spread broadcast its sweet message of springtime. 

The robin with his ruddy breast of gold 
Skipped o'er the grass and from the tree tops told 
The story dear to every human heart 
How he was of the joyous spring a part. 

55 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



The oriole up in the highest tree 
With coat of brightest crimson, full of glee, 
Told of the passing winter and decay. 
Then sang a gorgeous rhapsody to May. 

The lark while soaring 'twixt the earth and sky 
Sang out to men in liquid notes and high. 
"If thou would'st have thy health again," said he, 
"Come back to nature, from the city flee." 

The speckled hen, she, too, hath played her part 

To give the joyous spring a worthy start. 

Twelve spheres of white with patient warmth she 

wrought, 
To downy creatures, now her constant thought. 

They followed her where e'er she scratched the 

earth, 
With eager life and joyousness and mirth 
Where e'er a worm unfolded in its lair, 
Twelve downy, peepy chickies, they were there. 

This scene was laid amidst the mountains blue, 
A part of Schuylkill Valley's gorgeous view, 
Nearby a little village in a glen 
Long since rtie home of honest working men. 

They, too, were filled with messages of spring 
Made white their fences, walls and everything 
That to the eye the better might appear 
For having had a coat of lime each year. 

56 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



Port Clinton is the name of this old town, 
A grand old spot, but not of great renown, 
It gave me birth and hence to me is dear, 
I love to meet my friends there every year. 

To hear and tell the tales of days of old, 
Whose subjects grow more dear each time retold, 
The swimming pool beside a shady tree 
As grand as any in the east you'll see. 

The rock from which we always took our dives. 
As though they were the zenith of our lives. 
The green whereon we played our boyish games 
And called each other by our quaint nick names. 

The old brick school with rooms 1, 2, and 3, 
Recalls the fondest memories to me, 
Its crowning belfry held the brazen bell 
Which sang the matin's song to all the dell. 

And when its angelus our ears did greet 

We all descended stairs straight home to eat ; 

But sweetest of its music to our ear 

Was Vespers' bells, it brought us all good cheer. 

It seemed to say, "Boys, now your work is done. 
Go play, go play, till setting of the sun ;" 
And now, dear friend, my story I shall sing, 
'Twas told to me one joyous day in spring, 

By Joseph, then the oldest man in town. 
He, too, had lived to gain quite great renown 

57 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

As woodman and as hunter, brave and bold. 
And this the story as to me he told : — 

PART II. 



Aunt Sally when a maiden young and fair 
Was tall of stature crowned with dark brown hair 
Which lay in waves and ringlets o'er her brow, 
It seems to me that I can see her now. 

Her cheeks were plump and of a chestnut brown 
I never knew her once to wear a frown, 
Her eyes appeared to me like molten coal 
And they were truly windows of her soul, 

Which lay beneath as pure as ought could be 
(Thank heaven, for its influence on me). 
What kept me in the straight and narrow way? 
'Twas thinking of sweet Sally day by day. 

Now, Sally was in truth, Dame Nature's child, 
Strong as an antlered buck out in the wild. 
And yet withal as gentle as a lamb. 
She called herself "The little friend to man." 

I've seen her lift a trout from tumbling brook, 
With hickory wand and plainest line and hook. 
Then broil it to a turn on woodman's fire, 
If he were ill, such work it would inspire. 

58 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



I saw her drop a quail while on the wing, 
With rifle shot, and then in rapture sing 
*"Tis sin to kill with myriad balls of lead." 
"Give every creature chance for life," she said. 

She knew the roots and herbs on hill and dell 
And with them made both man and infant well 
She knew the thing to do for every ill 
And looked askance upon the doctor's pill. 

She brewed a balsam from the bark and leaves, 

The buds and berries of the forest trees. 

And mingled with it lots of human love. 

It healed as though 'twere sent from heaven above. 



She had a spring near by her cottage door, 

'Twas shaded by a giant sycamore, 

"It's crystal aqua," said an old legend, 

"Had power rheumatic joints and limbs to mend." 

This tale, I've heard the village children tell, 
Aunt Sally brought all babies from this well. 
And stayed with them a fortnight just to show 
The mothers how to make the babies grow. 

Whene'er they met her on the village street 
"Auntie" was the word her ear would greet; 
No matter were they white or black or brown, 
To all, she was the "Auntie" of the town. 

59 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



Whene'er a member of the village clan, 
Was called to join the growing caravan, 
That travels towards the gate of paradise, 
Aunt Sally went and made him look quite nice. 

I loved this girl with love you seldom see, 
I tried my best to bind her soul to me, 
But she possessed a different point of view 
And yet withal, I think she loved me, too. 

She told me "I'm the little friend to man, 
And I must follow in that sacred plan. 
Were I your wife," is what she said to me, 
"The friend to all men, I could never be." 

She lived her life of four-score years and three 
And then we laid her 'neath yon willow tree, 
And on her tomb where gentle breezes fan 
I carved these words, "Aunt Sally, Friend of Man." 



WINTER TO SPRING 



Did not I remember that my hair is grey 

With only a fringe of it left, 
I'd follow your footsteps from wee break of day 

Till night was of moon-light bereft. 



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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



Your eyes wondrous fountains of joy and of youth 
Remind me of days long since flown, 

My sweetheart, I led to the altar of truth, 
But then the gay spring was my own. 

Now winter has come with its snow and its wind 

And made me as bare as its trees. 
Oh, yes I still love, but its only in mind, 

For I'm fast growing weak at the knees. 

Your voice is as sweet as the song of a bird. 
Your manners are those of the fawn, 

I dream of you, darling, — oh, pardon, that word, 
From twilight to breaking of dawn. 

Your name in this missive you'll search for in vain. 

Nor mine at the finis, I'll fling, 
For winter must suffer the bliss and the pain 
In secret for loving the spring 



TO THE COLORED SOLDIERS 



Oh, long enduring men of ebon hue, 

Though held in bondage nigh three hundred years. 

The while you wet the soil with blood and tears, 

You kept the faith, to man and God were true ; 

At last Columbia's bugle called for you. 

But not until her heart was full of fear, 

Lest freedom's daughter soon should find her bier, 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



As unjust nations all are wont to do. 

Arrayed in blue, with muskets in your hand, 

You fought like demons for Red, White and Blue, 

At Gettysburg and down in Dixie land, 

At Wagner and alas, at Pillow, too. 

Where liberty was strengthened by your hand, 

Which helped the nation free itself and you. 



THE VOICE OF THE Y. M. C. A. 



Hear me, men ! I am a foundry 
Built to build a manly clan. 

Doing quite a high-grade business 
By a little four-fold plan. 

First, I take the human body. 

Cleanse it with my spray and pool, 

In my gym I give it culture 
As we do the mind in school. 

By my scheme of daily practice 
Bodies grow in strength and form 

Till they make a class of dwellings 
Souls could never deign to scorn. 

Secondly, I find great pleasure 
Working with the plastic mind. 

Bringing to it seeds of wisdom 
From the best of human kind. 

62 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



Through my forum, by my lectures, 
In my Sunday meetings, too, 

For the worldly, I am searching 
Every day for something new. 



My belief is, when religion's 
Made to fit our daily need, 

Worldy folks will learn to love it 
And to help us plant its seed. 



Third, I've solved the social problem, 

By the simple Christian plan, 
Caring less for your profession 
Than to know you are a man. 

In my halls, the merchant, porter. 
Bell-boy, doctor, lawyer, too, 

Clerk, mechanic, bard, musician 
Gladly shake and talk with you. 

Thus you see. the mental master 
Helps the fellow down below 

And the man who helps another 
Is the surest one to grow. 

Fourthly, comes my spirit culture 
That I mingle with the rest, 

Singing, prayer and Scripture reading 
To my meetings lend a zest. 

62, 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



And I teach by word and action 
That the man I deem worth while 

Is the one who follows Jesus, 

Does his work and wears a smile. 



Father, bring your son and join me, 
Name your club Y. M. C. A. 

Having son in club with daddy 
Guarantees he will not stray. 



THE MIND 



What a fountain of perpetual joy 

To a woman, a man, a girl or a boy, 

Is the great human mind, when once they know, 

Just how to make that great fountain flow. 

It's the binding link twixt them and their God, 
If preaching sermons or toating the hod, 
If digging the clay or carving the stone, 
It's through the great mind, the work is done. 

If my friend the Muse 'bide with me today, 
And wisdom will stay and teach me the way, 
I'll try with my clumsy pen to portray. 
Just how to make that great fountain play. 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



Follow the law of God's infinite plan, 
Live not for yourself but your fellow man, 
Study the sages and Scriptures divine, 
Ponder their truths in leisure time. 

Hold fast to the things you know to be true, 
E'en though it may seem the wrong thing to do, 
Knowing that God will remain by your side 
And through your great mind will be your guide. 

If even you're deaf or crippled or blind 
As long as you keep control of your mind 
You still have the power of God at hand 
And with it all things can command. 

Remember, dear friend, this law is quite true. 
But if I have not made it clear to you. 
Just leave it with God and sometime He'll show 
You just how to make that fountain flow. 



TO A FRIEND'S CANARY 



Ethereal warbler, sprite like form of gold. 

How hidest thovi within thy tiny throat 
The power Aeolian carols to unfold? 

How keep like new thy dainty yellow coat 
While singing, trilling, V\^arbling, high and low, 

Like zephyrs wafted o'er the slumbering sea 
Then like the wind that makes the billows flow 

In joy and love's seraphic ecstacy? 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

'Tis true the skylark's song is blithe and sweet, 

The while, he frolics in the sunlit air 
Nor often hear we rhapsody complete 

As comes from nightingale's self-chosen lair. 
But thou, a slave, though gilded be thy bars 

Nor room to spread nor try thy fragile wing 
Deprived of forest, sun, thy mate and stars 

Compel the world to listen while you sing. 

Oh, tell to me that I may tell to man 

The philosophic musings of thy brain, 
Unfold for me thy wondrous, mystic plan 

That I may sing, when I have cause for pain. 
Is it because thy faith is free from doubt, 

Or that thou livest only for thee now. 
And leave to God that man would figure out? 

Oh, tell me, birdie, tell me, tell me how. 



CONSTANT COURAGE CONQUERS 



Constant courage conquers all things. 
Be not faint heart in life's fray ; 

Gird your loins and grasp your vision 
Forward marching day by day. 

Constant courage concjuers envy. 

Jealousy or fear or hate. 
Take it as your boon companion. 

Take it now, ere it's too late, 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Constant courage conquers failure, 
Hold it fast, when in the depths ; 

It will even soothe thy sorrow. 
It will banish vain regrets. 

Constant courage conquers cowards. 
Though they be of giant frame, 

Constant courage as your weapon 
Victory must crown your name. 

Constant courage conquers all things. 
With it, you can scale the heights. 

Till you've reached the highest tov/er 
Winning for your race their rights. 

Courage, courage, constant courage, 

Oh, ye, stalwart sons of Ham, 
Gird your loins and hold your vision, 

Constant courage makes a man ! 



GIVE US MEN 



Give us men, is the cry of the race ; 
Men who are able to fill high place ; 
Men who are strong, courageous and bold. 
Who will not sell manhood for filthy gold. 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Give us men ; they're the need of the race ; 
Men who can lead us to highest place, 
Men who would rather die than steal, 
Brimful of honor, devotion and zeal. 

Give us men, is the prayer of the race ; 

Men who keep morals in highest place. 

Men who disdain lascivious sin, 

Who keep themselves clean without and within. 

Give us men is the call of the day, 
Men who are willing to work and pray, 
Men who will start and show us the way, 
Onward and upward to better day. 

Give us men is the nation's call ; 
Men who are able to inspire all, 
Men who are fearless to speak the truth, 
Who deserve to be followed by our youth. 

Give us men with the clarion voice, 

To reach the throne of heavenly grace, 

And call the power of God from on high. 

Who will stand by the truth e'en though they die. 



When you treat your life as you do the rose, 

Failing the thorns to see, 
You'll find it full of love and joy. 

And grief and care will flee. 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 
LAMENTATIONS OF A HEN 



"Cluck, cluck, cluck," said the old yellow hen, 

As she scratched in the barn-yard dung 
And ruffled her feathers in nervous strain 

For the love and the care of her young. 
"I can't understand this great race of men. 

They prate of their wisdom and lore, 
And yet when the laurel or trophy they give 

I get not a tithe of their store." 



"Cluck, cluck, cluck," she uncovers a worm. 

But leaves it for some of her brood, 
"For sacrifice, sacrifice," cackles the hen, 

"Is the duty of motherhood. 
I reckon two-thirds of the days of the year, 

I give to my owner an egg, 
And yet I'm in dread when I cluck in the spring, 

I'll be dipped in a watery keg." 



"Cluck, cluck, cluck," called the hen from her nest, 

Mid sombre and desolate gloom, 
"Three weeks in the summer I suffer this strain 

With chances of death as my doom. 
When travail is over, my brood almost grown, 

Heartbroken I'm certain to be. 
For out comes the farmer and says to his son, 

'Send all off to market' but me." 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

"Cluck, cluck, cluck, when the poet would sing. 

Of a bird, he looks up to the air. 
And sings of the eagle, the known foe of man 

Or the lark, whose one song is so fair. 
Forgetting the egg, which for breakfast I gave, 

The pullet for luncheon, I've given. 
Perchance — e'en the pot pie he dines on to-night 

Will have sent my poor soul to its heaven, 
Cluck, cluck, cluck." 



Ilell is built on good intentions ; 

Heaven is made of things we do ; 
Hell is godly inclinations, 

Heaven is to put them through. 



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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY 



In Pennsylvania, I was born 

May, eighteen sixty-eight. 
Among the Bkie Ridge mountain peaks 

The east end of the State ; 
Of parents, honest, plain and true ; 

Yet with this pride possessed. 
To say they earned their bread by toil 

And their way was the best. 



I went to school till quite a lad 

Just one year from thirteen, 
I then went on the boat with dad 

To drive his three mule team. 
Both up and down the old tow-path 

I tramped by night and day; 
Though but a boy, not over-strong, 

I earned a workman's pay. 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

At last the railroad tagged my job, 

Gone with the things of yore ; 
I then went down to Quaker Town 

As boyhood days were o'er. 
"My blessings on thee," said my dad; 

"Be good, my first-born son," 
Was mother's tender blessing, as 

Her tears o'er cheeks did run. 

Like Jimmy Garfield, on Tow-path 

I started my career ; 
But he was white and I was black, 

The difference is clear; 
He climbed into a ruler's throne, 

I stood behind a chair; 
But I will not complain, dear friends, 

I learned some things while there. 

If I can sing a song or two 

To ease the woes of man, 
I'll die content that I have done 

A pittance in God's plan ; 
But, pray that God will haste the day 

That man will change all that. 
For Bobbie Burns, the bard, has said, 

"A man's a man for a' that." 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

I served the folks for many years 

In family and cafe, 
I served them well, worked very hard 

Till I went blind one day. 
That was the great, the crucial test 

Which nature gave my soul, 
To learn if it would sink when tried 

Or sail on toward its goal. 

I had a wife and children three 

Who looked to "dear" and "dad" 
For shelter, raiment, bread to eat, 

I ask you, "Was it sad?" 
We did not moan, nor fret, nor fume 

By night or in the day, 
We asked the God we always loved. 

And he showed us the way. 

My darling said, "I'll take the pants 

And go and earn the pay. 
You take the apron, stay at home 

And with the children play." 
She bravely earned our daily bread 

By honest brain and brawn. 
Alas, she worked incessantly 

Till night from early morn. 

7Z 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

I stayed at home but did not groan 

Nor hold my hands and weep ; 
I washed the dishes, made the beds, 

I even learned to sweep. 
I scrubbed the kitchen and the front, 

I was the laundry-man. 
Did everything about the house 

To keep it spick and span. 

I'd get the children ofif to school 

And have them do their part 
Of all the chores about the house 

To make them strong and smart. 
I'd help them with their lessons, too. 

That was a boon to me. 
For many things I had forgot 

I now can clearly see. 

Don't think my life was always smooth, 

It seldom is for you ; 
I bumped my head and scratched my face 

And tumbled over, too. 
A wash-tub, full of dirty clothes. 

Pinned me upon the floor ; 
I scrambled, floundered, slushed about 

Until I threw it o'er. 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

But here I am straight through it all — 

This tale is not to brag — 
But just to save some storm-tossed soul 

From ship-wreck on a crag. 
Now came my life's most bitter blow, 

My darling had a call 
To pass on to a higher sphere, 

She went and left us all! 



The anguish, sorrow, grief and pain 

Of my three bairns and me ! 
I almost questioned why our Lord 

Should sufifer this to be ! 
But still we trusted to His hand 

To lead us through the vale 
Of sorrow, anguish, grief and pain 

To joy beyond their pale ! 

My son and daughter both got, jobs 

The tale is sweet to tell, 
Of how they play their major parts, 

They do it brave and well. 
For six long years they've earned our bread, 

So cheerfully and free. 
My youngest daughter goes to school, 

And works at home with me, 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Oh, yes, the angels helped us, too, 

I mean those here on earth ; 
Some with their presents, some with toil. 

And some supplied the mirth. 
But, no, I will not tell their names, 

For that might interfere. 
With blessings that our Father gives 

For secret-service here. 

One year before I lost my sight 

I lost my mother dear ; 
At that time it most broke my heart. 

But now that vision's clear, 
I'm glad that she did not remain 

To see her darling boy 
Groping his way through thickning mists, 

'Twould rob her of her joy. 

The first year I dwelt in the gloom 

I learned to read again ; 
Now through my fingers, not my eyes, 

I glean the thoughts of men. 
From Scripture and the tale "Ben Hur" 

I learned much Hebrew lore ; 
Sir Walter Scott and Dickens gave 

Me freely of their store. 

7(> 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Brave Robert Louis Stevenson! 

He had his troubles, too, 
And shows you how to handle them 

If e'er they come to you. 
What I have read by Count Tolstoi 

Just whets my appetite, 
To have his books and read them o'er 

Would be a pure delight. 

One thing that gives me pleasure is 

To hear George Smyley read 
Paul Laurence Dunbar's poems — 

They're food for thought indeed. 
Right here I wish to tell a dream 

I had of that great bard; 
'Twas after hearing Smyley read 

The work of his old pard. 

***** 



A Dream of Dunbar. 

Sleepless, I lay upon my couch 
Weary and ill at ease; 

A strong desire upon my mind, 
Which I could not appease. 

17 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



'Twas this, to right the wrongs of man, 
To quell his strife and war ; 

In short, to build a Brotherhood, 
To last forevermore. 

I longed to have the mantle and 
The power of Paul Dunbar, 

That I might sing a sonnet grand 
To spread my thoughts afar. 

When, lo ! Paul Laurence came to me 

And sat against my knee ; 
I saw him, in my darkened cell. 

As plain as aught could be. 

And this is what he told to me : 
"Our Master heard thy prayer. 

And sent me down to say to thee. 
That thou should'st not despair. 

"That I should sing a song to thee. 

Of freedom and of love ; 
If it is followed it will make 

This earth like Heaven above." 

Paul whispered in my eager ear, 

"Pray sing it everywhere, 
To build the Brotherhood of Man 

Must be our constant prayer." 

Then sweet and low he sang this song 

Of freedom and of love ; 
And while I pondered over it 

He hied to realms above. 

78 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

"The thing ye need in this wide world 

Is love from man to man ; 
Ye must not live for self alone, 

For family or clan. 

Live for your God and for yourself, 
Your neighbors high and low ; 

Then ye will find the Brotherhood 
Of man where e'er ye go." 

* H= * * * 

Kate Douglas Wiggin's work is grand 

I'd love to know her well ; 
The height of my ambition is 

Sweet tales like hers to tell. 
Her "Mrs. Wiggs" should cure the blues 

Of any down-cast man , 
To follow her philosophy 

Is not a half-bad plan. 

The life of Helen Keller 

And her optimism too 
Should make the folks who have their sight 

Ashamed of feeling blue ; 
From Zeigler Magazine, in Braille, 

I get the current news 
And articles quite up to date 

Like brilliant men would choose. 

79 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

"Up From Slavery" by Booker T., 

Read to me by my son, 
Quite plainly shows to all black men 

What good work can be done. 
To read Du Bois or hear him speak 

Removes the final doubt 
Of Negro capability 

To figure all things out. 

I know no greater pleasure than 

To hear an artist play 
The violin or cello, 

Or the piano-forte. 
Our ragtime music has its place. 

It always moves my feet ; 
While classic strains enchant my soul 

When they are soft and sweet. 

They tell me of the sweetest flowers, 

Describe to me the birds ; 
They are the language of the heavens 

They need no other words. 
But, oh ! to hear my brethren sing 

Their old plantation songs, 
This sends my troubles off on wings 

I forget human wrongs. 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

It seems the gift the angels gave 

To men bowed down with care, 
To hie their thoughts aloft to Heaven 

To charm them from despair. 
This little song inspired by 

A bonnie girl named May, 
Will show the longing of my soul 

For sweet piano play. 

Play It Sof An' Gentle-lak'! 

Cum hyeah, mah little darlin', 

An' gin youh dad a kiss. 
Sit down t' dat piana, 

Turn sadness int' bliss ; 
Fse feelin' sad an' lonely 

All tru' dis lib Ion' day 
An' now ah wants mah honey 

T' drive dull caih away. 

Play sump'n sof an' gentle-lak'. 

Play sump'h sweet an' gentle, 

Lak' hummin o' de bees 
Dat 'minds mah o' de flow'rs 

An sweet magnolyah trees ; 
Dat soun's jest lak' de singin' 

O' birds when daih in lub', 
Dat seems jest lak' a wispah 

Dat cum's from Heb'n above. 
Play sump'n sof an' gentle-lak'. 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Play "On de Suanne Ribah," 

O' "Mah Kaintucky Home," 
O' sump'n else jest lak dat, 
Dat melody o' youh own ; 
Mah soul am all enraptured 

When e're youh touch dem keys 
Daih's nothing' else lak music 
Dis ole man's soul t' please. 
Play sump'n sof an' gentle-lak'. 

'T was just about four years ago, 

My daughters were away, 
My son was down town at his work. 

So I was home to stay. 
I said this thing will never do 

ril learn a new trick now, 
So I sawed off an old broom-stick 
And started learning how. 

To walk the streets all by myself. 

And now its lots of fun 
To take my stick, go see a friend, 

Or else an errand run. 
To go to lectures or to church. 

To make me somewhat free, 
And not compelled to wait at home 

For friends to go with me. 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

I passed beside the street one day, 

A blind man selling brooms, 
I bought one — cost me forty cents — 

To keep my heart in tmie ; 
But that was just another seed 

That blossomed forth and grew 
For sweeter friendship than Will Crump's 

Is what I seldom knew. 

He is the man you read about 

Of Fourth Street National Bank, 
Who faced a desperado's bomb — 

From duty never shrank. 
When will this country, big and grand, 

Requite the Negro's love? 
Oh, God, when will it understand 

The rule of Heaven above? 

Both he and I make it a point 

To visit all the blind 
And tell them things we think will help, 

Their body and their mind. 
Each week I spend an hour or two 

With sightless Mrs. Wild, 
She rules the muse and takes the best, 

Just like a naughty child. 

83 



DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

But how I like to hear her read 

The fruit of her own brain; 
It makes me see the fairest flowers, 

The birds and trees again, 
All sparkling in the bright sunshine 

At morning wet with dew, 
I see the angels' faces and 

The love of Heaven, too! 

'Tis bliss to hear her sing the songs 
Of her Kentucky Home, 

In sweetest Southern melody- 
Just she and I alone. 

I think that sight would spoil this joy. 
For then it might not be 

Communion of poetic souls 
In sweet simplicity ! 

Perhaps my greatest blessing since 

I've dwelt within the gloom. 
Was being taught by Mr. Moore, 

To read the Braille and Moon. 
They are the types we sightless folks 

Can with our fingers read ; 
And keep our minds refreshed and filled 

With wisdom's precious seed. 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 



To Mr. James W. Moore: — 

Oh, the sympathetic patience 

Of our teacher, true and kind! 
Though he dwells like us in darkness, 

Brings his sunshine to our mind! 
Keeps his "Gospel-lamp a burning. 

Helping sinner's find their way. 
Spreads his wisdom all about him 

For the sightless every day. 

Do you know a higher calling 

Than that followed by our friend? 
Has this world a man more worthy, 

With a life of higher trend? 
Though he bears no lofty titles. 

No high-sounding, grand degree, 
He shall wear a crown in Glory, 

With the Great Divinity. 



Don't think my life is naught but joy, 

Oh, could that ever be! 
No, there are things that cause me pain, 

Just little things, you see ! 
One of the causes of this pain 

Is when a man I've loved 
Walks straight-way by my humble door 

To those he thinks above. 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

The friend of yore, "Now down and out" 

To him I say, "Take care. 
The cup of worm-wood and of gall 

Can turn joy to despair !" 
It makes me feel like hide of shark 

To hear a doctor say, 
"God sends to man another sense 

When He takes sight away!" 

The thing discerned among the blind 

Is by us all possessed 
The trouble is men do not train 

Their senses for the best. 
But life, yes, life is far too sweet 

To waste its precious time. 
Compiling things that bear a sting — 

'Twere sacrilege in rhyme. 

There're other things that I might tell 

As part of my life's tale. 
To make you laugh or bring the tears, 

But that would not avail ; 
To prove to you it is worth while 

That we should do our best. 
Though fortune seems to crush us down 

Much lower than the rest. 

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DADDY'S LOVE AND OTHER POEMS 

Adieu, my patient reader, who 

Has heard me to the end; 
If you have finished with this book 

Pray hand it to a friend 
Or someone stunned beneath his load, 

In pain or in despair! 
It may, perchance, reveal that faith 

Can conquer fear and care. 




87 



